VELOCITY

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EDITOR IN CHIEF Maddie Casey

CREATIVE DIRECTOR Simran Gvalani

DESIGN DIRECTOR Olivianne Iriarte

FASHION EDITOR Jessica Brite

ART DIRECTOR Kaela Anderson

ASSOCIATE DESIGN DIRECTOR Renee Pearce

BEAUTY EDITOR Daniella Gauld

PHOTO DIRECTORS Calem Robertson Aung Thant Kyaw

LIFESTYLE EDITOR Lily Ellwood COLUMNISTS Gwen Egan Rachel Erwin Meghna Iyer Aanchal Dharmani

WRITERS Sofia Weddle, Martina Colzi, Ebube Onwusika, Sara Akhatar, Camille Ruykhaver, David Greenbaum, Brianna Nnadi, Alayna Thomas, Halima Duarte, Katherine Pinnock, Tessa Rigby, Alexandra Nieto, Cathy Ching, Kelly Fleming, Autumn Rhonemus PHOTOGRAPHERS

COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR Azra Schorr COMMUNICATIONS ASSOCIATE Annie Yen

SOCIAL MEDIA DESIGN Maria Fernandez-Baigun WOMENSWEAR HEAD STYLIST Hillary Nana-Adjei MENSWEAR HEAD STYLIST Quirin Emanga

WEB EDITOR Hugh Ferguson PRESIDENT Sara Chen TREASURER Mi'Angela Plater SECRETARY Kaylah Webb

MODELS August Escandon, Jarriah Cockhren, Henry Abrams, Coco Lheritier, Randall Gee, Abby Falzone, Nebyou Mergia, Sidney Li, Halimat Olunlade, Avery Leiss, Halima Duarte, Uma Bhuju, Allie Kuo, Tessa Rigby, Ava Rognlien, Kevin Zhang, Alexandra Nieto, Sam Krot, Marie Siopy, Brianna Nnadi, Kiira Amechi, Quirin Emanga

Henry Abrams, Emanuelle Doyki, Catherine Titcomb, Sofia Cianca, Lauren Looney, Ruby Trvalik, Mia Rapella, Lucy Murrey, Kimmy Curry, Hillary Nana-Adjei, Aishazhan Abu, Lauren Walsh DESIGNERS Kimmy Curry, Claire Higgins, Alexis Knight, Megan Lam, Tanya Kler, Marena Ramirez, Thandiwe Tembo

STYLISTS Nell Sweeney, Samir A-Rahim, Avery Parker, Abby Falzone, Coco Lheritier, Maggie Van Nortwick, Elana Lane, Grace Gillen

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR

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VELOCITY VELOCITY can be defined as “the speed of something in a given direction.”

Our collective experience since the introduction of vaccines and a disjointed opening up of the country has been one of changing velocity — from a complete halt during lockdown to staggered, disagreed upon, messy attempts to return to normal life. Everything has felt so fast since things have started to go back to normal, with a full reopening of Boston, a return to in-person classes, and many newly widening social circles. VELOCITY is our attempt to iterate this feeling of speed, how each of us has experienced it now and throughout our lives, and how these changes in velocity have shaped our culture and the world of beauty and fashion.

In the past year, the issues that we have produced at The Avenue have been intended as parallels to our general lives and greater social phenomena — how could they not be, with a global pandemic, social upheavals, and political strife infiltrating and affecting every area of our lives? This semester, VELOCITY is meant to extend that parallel while leaving behind such an extensive focus on contemporary happenings. Fashion and culture do not exist in a vacuum and are shaped and changed by our society, salient issues, and politics, but they can be considered on an individual level, separately from direct discussion of large-scale issues and events. With VELOCITY, our team wants to reflect the energy of the new time that we are living in while making space for our writers and creatives to express their stories, ideas, interpretations, and art.

This pandemic and the social issues that have been highlighted during it are not things of the past. The emphasis of our theme moving away from events from the pandemic does not mean that the issues that we have been focusing on have lost their importance or their impact on us. We recognize how the events of the last year and a half have shaped us, and by no means is the velocity that we are experiencing only a positive one. These months of re-opening have brought changing velocities through both increased speeds and directions. That direction has not always been positive, and it remains to be seen how, or if, most of the issues that we have faced will be solved.

Our world is composed of individuals living, expressing, doing, creating, and feeling and shaped by a changing and complex world, and VELOCITY is a true representation of that. I am so proud of the work that our team has put into creating it.

MADISON CASEY, EDITOR IN CHIEF

LETTER FROM THE

CREATIVE DIRECTOR 0

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What comes to you when you think of the word VELOCITY? When we first decided on the word VELOCITY, we were uncertain. Because while the directionality aspect of its meaning sounded ideal, we weren’t sure if the literal perspective of motion would make this issue feel visually repetitive. But our skepticism helped motivate us to challenge ourselves and see what we could come up with.

VELOCITY is by far our most conceptual issue.

Whether it be through the literal movement we create with our bodies or the impalpable movement in our surroundings and our thoughts that we are so oblivious to; we wanted to provide you with a multidimensional perspective to movement.

VELOCITY explores the essence of movement through themes such as energy, the juxtaposition of form and fluidity, and the idea of randomness in our everyday life.

The Avenue aims to inspire and challenge other creatives to look beyond their work. VELOCITY embodies our creative philosophy to bend the definition and strive to stay adaptable. I feel incredibly lucky to be part of such a talented team of individuals who are passionate about bringing each issue to life and helping one another grow as creatives.

Thank you to everyone who contributed to VELOCITY – every word, visual, and contribution has been essential to articulating the vision. We hope you enjoy our take on redefining movement, and in turn, encourage you to reflect on how movement exists in your life.

SIMRAN GVALANI CREATIVE DIRECTOR

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OF

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CONTENTS

010 Queering the Buzzcut 014 An Industry Trapped 020 DUALITY 030 Trey Graves: A Musical Conversation 036 Boring or Inspiring: A Look Into Derivative Fashion

040 There's No Such Thing as a Waste of Time 046 SYNTHESIS 050 A Bridge Between Worlds 056 The Next Generation of Designers 062 Strutting Down the Reinvented Runway

066 Finding Inner Beauty 070 DRIFT 082 A Slower Pace 086 Keeping Up with the Times 090 Build-a-Body: Is Plastic Surgery In?

094 Beats Per Minute: The Speed of Sound in Daily Life 100 How to Become Beautiful 104 TEMPO 116 One in a Million

Queering the Buzzcut 1

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WHAT DOES THE HAIRSTYLE MEAN FOR THE LGBTQ+ AUTONOMY? To most, buzzcuts have always been synonymous with the military — a sense of brutal hypermasculinity — or, less often, part of a fleeting trend or an individual’s breakage from gender norms. That was until this year, when the hairstyle became ubiquitous among queer people, both on social media and in person. Gaining popularity from queer creators on TikTok and Instagram, the buzzcut quickly became a marker of queerness in 2021.

The adoption happened seamlessly. As time went on, more and more queer people appeared on stories, the timeline, and the For You Page with freshly shaven hair, often dyed in bold colors or patterns. One user on the social platform in particular captured, with great humor, the gist of the playful ideology behind the trend: it’s a buzzcut “not in a military inspired way, but in a post gender, effortless chic, model-off-duty meta-ironic brooklynite art student way,” said @ badboypokerbabe. The hairstyle spread with the jokes, and soon a traditionally hypermasculine motif was successfully turned into a vehicle for a uniquely queer, glamorous subversion.

This is not a new concept — queer individuals have long dressed outside of gender norms to question the systems in place. This trend, movement even,

RECLAIMING A QUINTESSENTIALLY HETERONORMATIVE AESTHETIC IS EMPOWERING.

proves as significant as those past. While we value it for its aesthetic, irony, and humour, the queer buzzcut more notably carries significant weight in terms of queer citizenship. Reclaiming a quintessentially heteronormative aesthetic is empowering. In order to dissect opinions on and understanding of this reclamation, we interviewed students with buzzcuts.

Second year Michael Rivera said, “I used to see buzzcuts and hate them. They were too rigid and confining. I felt like if I had a buzzcut, I was putting myself into this stereotypical and heteronormative idea of what I thought men had to look like. I was chained to the idea that if I had a buzzcut I was conforming to something I wasn’t; being gay has always made the topic of masculinity a very complex one to navigate for me. Since I didn’t feel like I was traditionally masculine, I felt like I couldn’t look like a typical man either.”

Michael continues, “But as I started to see people on TikTok and Instagram and all over social media shaving their heads, for personal satisfaction, and some even dying it in a rainbow of colors, it made me jealous that they were confident enough to do something so bold without fear of being perceived.

So I did too. And I haven’t stopped since. It was one of the most liberating choices I have ever made. Eventually, this pervasive idea of buzzcuts being inherently masculine began to fade, and I

writing DAVID GREENBAUM modeling KAYA THOMAS & DAVID GREENBAUM & LENA MCLAUGHLIN & MICHAEL RIVERA photography RUBY TRVALIK design ALEXIS KNIGHT

now just see my hair as an extension of my being instead of something that further marginalizes me.”

Not only does the buzzcut reject heteronormativity, but it also allows for a transcendence beyond an enforced subscription of gender on aesthetics.

Additionally, the buzzcut has been a vehicle for queer people to test and play with boundaries and expectations for gender expression.

Second year Kaya Aziza explains, “I’ve struggled a lot with my queer identity since being on campus, especially when it comes to my hair. Boston is obviously one of the major queer cities in America, but sometimes it feels like queer people here are limited to archetypes, and that the way you look is representative of what ‘type’ of queer person you are, so having short hair to me is a bit of a protest to that. Because I like to present femme a lot of the time, short hair allows me and people who see me to question their own definitions of femininity and what that really means, which I really enjoy. So to me, experiencing super short hair has allowed me to shed expectations of myself and to stop thinking about what I should look like and more about what I want to look like.”

The buzzcut and the incorporation of other previously strictly-gendered codes into queer expression affords a certain reconsideration: What do we expect queerness to look like?

Queer people don’t always have the autonomy to determine for themselves what culturally, artistically, and aesthetically is queer. Considering how much has been taken from queer people by the dominant culture during an ongoing marginalization, this process of diverging the narrative by painting preexisting components of our overall culture in a new light proves remarkably empowering in terms of visibility, citizenship, and power.

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WHAT DO WE EXPECT QUEERNESS TO LOOK LIKE?

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AN INDUSTRY TRAPPED

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Froot Loops, Reese’s Puffs, Frosted Flakes — rated a six, ten, and eight, respectively, by Cereal Professional’s Instagram account. In a world saturated with a variety of cereals, a bit of advice on which is best could help consumers choose which sugary breakfast to buy. However, product recommendations found through social media aren’t limited to cereal pages. Fashion influencers also help us decide what outfits and brands we should crave. On influencers’ Instagram pages, there are colorful Zara pants and sheer Shein tops galore.

Like a shopping catalog, I scroll from one post to the next, seeing which clothing item catches my eye. Yet, unlike the cereal page, there is no rating provided by the influencers for each ensemble.

Every outfit looks like a 10 to me — and I want them all.

What do fashion influencers really think of the clothes and brands they display on social media?

The truth is, we’ll never know. Though if one thing’s for sure, it’s that fashion influencers want all of their outfits to be perceived as a 10 by their audiences.

It’s no secret that influencers are frequently paid to post themselves wearing a brand’s clothing, and at times, they don’t disclose these sponsorships or ads. In some cases, unwitting followers are misled into believing the influencer genuinely likes and wears these garments, when in reality, their

writing CAMILLE RUYKHAVER photography SOFIA CIANCA

motivation is merely a paycheck. What’s more, consumers often relate or look up to influencers, like a friend with a giant, jealousy-inducing wardrobe. They view influencer content as a recommendation from someone they can trust, according to Retail TouchPoints. This morally ambiguous situation becomes even more pressing when taking into account the rising authority of influencers in the fashion industry.

In today’s media climate, influencers often have a bigger voice than fashion critics and journalists.

According to The Toronto Star, reduced print magazine budgets have led to fewer critics at fashion shows, while more influencers, who are generally not trained in fashion critique, are taking their seats. Through social media, they have amassed wide audiences that eclipse those of critics and journalists. Unlike critics, almost all influencers praise brands’ clothing without a hint of negativity. As previously mentioned, brands frequently gift items to influencers. It is not uncommon for influencers to be flown out to runway shows by designers and dressed by the brand, almost guaranteeing positive coverage.

Therefore, a possibly enriching platform for fashion conversation “bypasses both criticism and opinion – and goes straight to advertising,” reports The Toronto Star. This allows brands to avoid the risk

modeling NEBYOU MERGIA & SIDNEY LI design MEGAN LAM stylist NELL SWEENEY

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of journalists’ potential critiques, which in turn casts a shadow of inauthenticity over the fashion industry.

In addition, fewer improvements can be made to the industry if people in the spotlight speak only positively about brands and their clothing. And most concerningly, such constant, gleaming coverage leads to higher levels of consumer consumption.

With influencers ceaselessly posting themselves in new outfits, fashion trends on Instagram and TikTok flash in and out like bolts of lighting. Beautifully styled on gorgeous people, it’s easy for consumers to buy into all of these fads. It is not uncommon to see influencers flood these platforms with a trendy style that’s difficult to resist. After a few weeks or so, you might finally give in and purchase the garment, only for it to disappear from your For You Page the following day. A new trend takes its place, the cycle continues, and whiplash ensues. This pace is made possible by fast fashion, which is defined by its rapid clothing production. This fast-paced production process gets trendy garments out of the factory and into consumers’ hands as soon as possible.

The dizzyingly fast trend cycles and only-wearonce mentality promoted by these influencers are drowning an industry, which already struggles with overconsumption, in even more waste.

BUT TODAY, WITH THE RISE OF SOCIAL MEDIA INFLUENCERS, FAST FASHION IS NOT JUST SPRINTING – IT’S MOVING AT SUPERNATURAL SPEEDS.

INFLUENCER CULTURE IS NOT ONLY ENCOURAGING, BUT NORMALIZING THIS EXCESSIVE CONSUMPTION.

The Ethical Fashion Forum reports that consumers are purchasing a third more clothes now than they were 4 years ago, according to Knapton Wright.

Since fast fashion brands are affordable, many people are also enticed to buy these garments for their low prices. However, they are often made of cheap, synthetic materials that are harmful to the environment and prone to wear down easily.

The long-term effects of fast fashion are not to be trifled with. The UCSD Guardian reports that, on average, Americans throw away 80 pounds of clothing each year. And the planet carries the burden of these rejected clothes. The Copenhagen Fashion Summit states that fashion is responsible for 92 million tons of solid waste dumped in landfills every single year. If current purchasing practices don’t change, “the fashion industry (of which fast fashion is the dominant player) could be responsible for a quarter of the Earth’s carbon budget by 2050” according to HuffPost. To make matters worse, the low prices and rapid production of fast fashion are felt significantly by those who make the clothing.

Most of these workers suffer in abysmal conditions and are severely underpaid. Child labor is sometimes the source of these garments, and the sweatshops these workers are in come with high levels of injury and mistreatment, according to The UCSD Guardian.

fashion trends has impacted the fashion industry in damaging ways, from subduing critiques of the industry to accelerating waste. With that being said, there is the possibility of change. Millennials and Generation Z are the primary force behind the fast paced movement of trends, yet many are also concerned about the environment. The clear clash between these objectives has encouraged some influencers to make a conscious effort to protect the planet against speedy trend cycles. For example, some influencers refuse to work with fast fashion brands in order not to encourage unsustainable consumption. Others wear and promote primarily thrifted pieces, speaking out about the dangers of fast fashion. Although they are in the minority of fashion influencers, they are growing, and so is their influence.

At first glance, influencers’ posts may seem as simple as those focused on cereals, providing a helpful guide to the best products to buy. Peel back the polished surface, and multiple layers lurk beneath. The arising power of influencer culture over

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DUAL ITY 2

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creative direction SIMRAN GVALANI art direction KAELA ANDERSON photography CALEM ROBERTSON contributing photo direction AUNG THANT KYAW design RENEE PEARCE modeling OLIVIANE IRIARTE & HILLARY NANA-ADJEI styling direction HILLARY NANA-ADJEI & QUIRIN EMANGA styling AVERY PARKER & MAGGIE VON NORTWICK & NELL SWEENEY & SAMIR A-RAHIM & ABBY FALZONE & COCO LHERITIER & ELANA LANE & GRACE GILLEN

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DUALITY REPRESENTS AN ACCELERATING CHANGE FROM WHAT WE ARE COMFORTABLE SHOOTING WITH TO A NEW PERSPECTIVE ABOUT FASHION PHOTOGRAPHY.

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TREY

GRAVES: 3

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A Musical Conversation The Avenue Magazine recently sat down with singer-songwriter Trey Graves, the bassist for artist Duckwrth’s US tour. Originally William Graves of Memphis, Tennessee, Trey attended Berklee University before moving to LA to pursue his career in music.

When did you first become interested in music as a career path?

I would say it had to be at the age of three. My dad was a singer-songwriter and he played keys.

He was able to bring me to a lot of his gigs. I started playing drums at the age of three, and I’d play the bongos at my Dad’s gigs. When I got old enough that my feet touched the pedals on the drums, I started playing the drums at his gigs and in church. I started producing my own music at 11 on a keyboard; I’d record it to the webcam on my laptop and post it on YouTube. My dad got me a bass guitar in the tenth grade and told me “You’ll be playing that in church this Sunday, so you might want to figure it out.” Music was just my environment growing up; it was second nature, so that was always what I wanted to do.

How would you describe your musical style?

My musical style is a fusion of hip-hop, R&B, soul, rock, pretty much a gumbo of everything. I’m from the country, I grew up playing soul, the blues, and a lot of old school R&B, so that naturally comes out in my stuff. My dad’s taste in music was old school R&B, soul, and blues, and my mom was super into hip hop — her favorite artists were Biggie and Tupac.

My style is sort of [all of] those mixed together.

You spent some time at Berklee studying music. What role did Berklee play in your development as an artist?

Being at Berklee helped me solidify for myself that I was an artist. When I first got there, I was kind of lost and still trying to figure it out. I was playing drums, playing bass, and producing my own music.

It was a constant thing where people would tell me, “You have the sound, you really seem like an artist.”

Before I even started calling myself Trey Graves, people were already calling me that, Trey Graves, the artist. Even when I was slacking off in class, my professors supported me because they believed in my artistry.

How did you become connected with Duckwrth and join his tour?

Duckwrth’s whole band is basically made up of Berklee students. Two homies of mine played bass for Duckwrth beforehand but then got busy doing their own thing, and said, “Hey, you want to do this?” It was kind of a natural rotation. That’s kind of how all these tours work, it’s the same circle of people rotating gigs around.

writing KELLY FLEMING modeling TREY GRAVES photography MAXWELL NUDI design ALEXIS KNIGHT

I TRY TO IMAGINE THE WORDS I WANT THE NOTES TO BE SAYING

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How does playing as part of a band differ from writing and playing your own material?

It’s one thing when I’m in my room and producing a song by myself, because I’m pretty much creating everything myself. When you’re playing with a group of people, you’re multitasking. You’re putting your ideas out there and expressing yourself, but you also have to be listening to what everyone else is doing and making sure that you’re on the same wavelength. You have to be actually listening and responding, it’s a whole musical conversation. I try to imagine the words I want the notes to be saying.

I’m listening to the lyrics [Duckwrth] is saying, I’m listening to the rhythms, what everyone else is saying, seeing how I fit in and what I want to say. The more we perform together the more our chemistry builds, and hanging out before and after shows improves our performance and makes it feel natural.

Tell us some lessons you’ve learned while touring with Duckwrth that you will continue to benefit from as you advance in your career.

Watching how he performs, seeing how he commands the crowd — all of it has helped my artistry. For me, it’s super aspirational — Duckwrth’s music is a really eccentric and different style from most people’s in our community, so that’s very inspiring. It makes me feel like I can express myself and do something completely different and it’ll be fine, people will love it.

One specific lesson I’ve learned on tour is that it’s not about what you’re playing, it’s more so about how you do it and how much you believe it. There’s been shows where I performed the exact same notes but the crowd reacted differently because we were more confident. When someone sees that you’re really having fun, they can feel that energy and it becomes a whole experience. Having fun and helping the audience have fun is more important than anything else.

Does crowd energy differ from city to city?

What are your favorite cities to perform in?

Yeah, crowd energy is definitely different in each city. New York was definitely the littest, we had two shows and both of them were crazy as fuck. At our Seattle show, it was interesting — they didn’t really know Duckwrth that well, but they loved the show so much that it was crazy. Boston was very emotional for me because I had a lot of friends from Berklee and some family there; I felt like, “Damn, this is full circle.”

Tell us about your latest EP, Fern. How has your musical style grown between this album versus your last?

This EP is named after my girlfriend, Fern. At the time we were doing long distance — I had just moved to LA and she was far, far away in London.

I was trying to figure out something cool for Valentine’s Day, something different. The EP was a compilation of songs that I had been working on for the past couple of years. I finished them up and put them in a small little package kind of as a gift for her — some cute shit. Thinking about the difference between Fern and my first project, Drift — Fern is more mature and specific. Drift is in the clouds, super wavy, trippy, psychedelic vibes.

What advice do you have for our readers who are interested in a career in music?

Do your research, do as much as you can. Spend time every day creating something. And if you want to do something, don’t be scared. If you keep pushing, you can do it. And never compare yourself. That’s the shit that kills everything. Don’t look at what someone else is doing. Everyone’s timeline is unique, that’s the most important thing — your timeline doesn't have to line up with everyone else’s. Whatever you want to do, if you put the time in, it will happen.

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

In five years, I see myself going on my third tour with my own music, and I’ll probably have a handful of tours with other artists under my belt. I want to be at New York Fashion Week doing something.

For now, I’ve got an album that I’m working on; it should be coming out next spring!

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BORING OR INSPIRING:

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A LOOK INTO DERIVATIVE FASHION Looking back at the recent history of fashion, it is clear that certain trends and clothing pieces tend to resurface over the decades. . While designers have spearheaded many throwback trends on the runway, fashion consumers have held control over their popularization through street style dissemination. The popular trends change every year, but one thing remains stagnant: fashion is derivative. Derivative or cyclical, fashion takes trends that originated in prior decades and reintegrates them into current times. Much of this repetition involves innovating and modernizing old styles instead of copying the trends exactly. A brief glance at recent fashion reveals overt nods to historically popular styles, but with a constant recycling of trends, when will the industry get t ired? While our era’s creativity will certainly feel some consequences from its monotony moving forward, derivative fashion will likely lead to a renewal of former trends that are unrecognizable from the past.

We see derivative fashion everywhere. It’s inherent in many creative fields to recreate what once was popular — if it worked then, why can’t it work now and be made even better? According to classical fashion forecasters, such cyclical trends normally stick around for a few years in a decade, fall out of style, and circle back around 20 years later in an altered form, reports Grace Gordon at Savoir Flair.

This is mostly due to fashion nostalgia, according to Nicole Kliest at The Zoe Report. The styles that we wore as kids or young adults hold a strong sense of nostalgia that when looking back on photographs or reminiscing on memories, we want to replicate.

In looking back and analyzing fashion history, this cycle can be clearly identified and is obviously

prevalent in the industry. The influx of tracksuits and low-rise jeans in Y2K fashion actually originated in 70s menswear. The 60s hatched the foundation for baggy clothes via men’s suits and mini skirts — both of which became popular again in the 70s, 90s, and 2000s. Baggier clothes are recycled today as staple pieces for androgynous fashion, contributing to a blurring of gender norms.

Crop tops, a beloved fashion trend from the late 2010s, that has remained popular are another great example of a cyclical trend. According to Emma McFall at Fashion at Brown, crop tops were born in the 40s as a result of fabric rationing. They resurfaced in the 70s and 80s in men’s gym wear to get around gym policies requiring shirts and in womenswear as inspiration grew surrounding Madonna and Cher’s midriff-baring outfits, according to Priya Elan at The Guardian.

In the rest of the art world, nods to past eras are often seen as well. Realism rejected Romanticism and derivative art intentionally, while Surrealism grew from Cubism in its emphasis on creative independence, reports My Modern Met. This pattern begs the question, does the prevalence of derivative art and fashion show that it is more accepted than pure originality? Some of the most shocking and memorable shows have been those that break through the norms and set new trends for the next coming years. In one famously flopped SS93 show for Perry Ellis, Marc Jacobs designed a grunge collection that got him fired. Models were draped in oversized grunge wear, which became

writing SOFIA WEDDLE modeling AUGUST ESCANDON & JARRIAH COCKHREN photography HENRY ABRAMS design THANDIWE TEMBO stylists AVERY PARKER & ALANA LANE

FASHION WILL CONTINUE TO ECHO ITSELF WITH TREND CYCLES.

popular later in the 90s but was originally bashed by critics, as reported by Hilary George-Parkin at Who What Wear. This show was uniquely nonderivative, which was primarily why it was so initially hated, so it is easy to understand why designers base new trends on something that worked before, rather than pushing fashion boundaries.

While Marc Jacobs was revered years after his show for being a leader in 90s grunge, the show flopped because it was not based on that everrepeated 20-year cycle. Interestingly enough, the designs in his show have been echoed in similar styles throughout the 2000s.

Despite being derivative, cyclical trends often look completely new each time that they go through a resurgence and the new versions become individually referenceable on their own.

Think thigh-high boots as high fashion, biker shorts worn for aesthetic and not athletic purposes, and Crocs as ironic fashion. The origin of some trends are often forgotten, but they do have historical bearing: thigh-high boots were used by the military in the 19th century, and YSL subsequently spearheaded women’s stocking boots in the 60s (according to Jessica Bucci at Startup Fashion). Biker shorts were used for actual racing, and crocs were popularized by 2000s kids for their functionality. These trends are derivative, but at the same time memorable because of their creative modernization.

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The beauty of fashion is that it all holds a past, but each repetition of it is evolved to fit the needs and wants of the modern consumer. By that right, fashion will not get boring. The ever-altering of trends creates a form of creative fashion that is distinct from the past and uniquely a sign of the current times.

Going 30 years forward, sustainable and techdriven fashion will probably take control. Think Etsy, thrifting, and Manus x Machina, all whipped into one. This push for sustainability will grow out of the increased transparency surrounding fast-fashion impacts, as well as the more environmentally conscious generation that will make up the majority of adult consumers. With the increase in second-hand shopping, derivative fashion will likely be even more amplified. Secondhand clothes mostly date around 10 to 20 years prior. People will increasingly mix decades together, formulating new trends defined by the old. It is difficult to hypothesize tech-driven trends, as that would require hypothesizing the future of the tech industry. One thing is certain though; as technology develops, fashion will follow alongside to remain updated and integrated with everydayuse tech.

Fashion will continue to echo itself with trend cycles. Maybe fashion will become more redundant and basic, but I believe trends will change so much that they are unrecognizable from the past.

Putting on an outfit every day is creativity at its base, and even if those outfits are repetitive or an over-recycling of trends, they are new to us at the moment. Through derivative fashion, we can connect to the past, evolve it, and eventually create new trends through the unrecognizable morphing of the old; none of which I would classify as boring fashion.

THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS A WASTE OF TIME 4

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Sitting on the third floor of Snell Library, I see that every other wooden seat is taken by a Northeastern student typing away at their laptop — possibly scrambling to finish their paper, reply to emails, or apply to competitive co-ops.

The sky is clear and the trees are shining bright green — today is the perfect weather for a picnic, a run, a shopping trip — yet here I am, on my laptop with hundreds of other Northeastern students at Snell Library on a Sunday.

I have always been productive, but when I entered college, I took it much farther. Constantly being surrounded by driven college students with the same goals as me — to get good grades, a good job, a good co-op — has made me believe that I am falling behind. I have a 4.0 GPA, I am an active member of many clubs, and I have a well-rounded resume, yet the competitive environment around me has brainwashed me into thinking that I still need to do better.

writing CATHY CHING

photography ILLLUSTRATION

design MARENA RAMIREZ

Although there are many inner factors that contribute to my over-productive nature, there is also one very important external factor: the consumerist society that I was raised in. Our economic system was built to prioritize profits.

As much as we try to climb our way to the top of the ladder, we have to understand that there are never-ending rungs to climb, because the capitalist system is structured against the 99% of us who are not billionaires. Through the ideals emphasized in our society, I have been led to believe that I need to put aside doing things that I enjoy in order to make the most out of my time.

My “internalized capitalism” — “this idea that our self-worth is directly linked to our productivity,” according to USA Today — manifested in my everyday life in my first year of college. I turned down plans to hang out with friends to finish assignments in fear of falling behind. I convinced myself that I would only be the best version of myself if I was constantly busy and working toward building my resume. When I took time to myself, I felt guilty. Even when I spent 15 minutes putting on a face mask, watching Netflix, or taking a welldeserved nap, I thought I was wasting my time.

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OUR WORTH IS NOT LINKED TO OUR PRODUCTIVITY

The truth is, there is no such thing as a “waste of time''. Our worth is not linked to our productivity.

Internalized capitalism has convinced us — especially as college students — that we are not working as hard as we should be. In reality, we are doing much more than we think we are or than we need to be doing.

Oftentimes we forget that we all define “success” differently. In a world that links our worth with our careers, when someone does not dream of being a CEO or an entrepreneur, they are deemed lazy.

Social media has made it tremendously easier for us to compare ourselves to our peers. I see my friends post new job offers that they accepted on LinkedIn and it sparks an urge in me to oneup them. But like most people, I forget that their definition of success is not the same as mine. I dream of being successful, but not in the same way as my friends.

Let’s not forget that people only post the best versions of themselves on social media. Although it may seem like our peers have found their dream jobs at a young age, we have to remember that they feel the same way we do. Even though at times I may think I am at the bottom of the professional totem pole, I have to remind myself that there is always someone that thinks I am doing better than they are.

At first, it was hard to believe that there were other college students that felt the same way as me.

Everyone has painted themselves a perfect facade on social media. Not too long ago, I attended a club meeting on campus. We opened up about our feelings on over-productivity, and sure enough, every single person in the room felt the same way I did. As Northeastern students fighting for spots in the same co-ops, we agreed that constantly being occupied can be a bit overwhelming at times.

Although I was vulnerable, I felt safe knowing that I was not alone.

It’s harder than it sounds to learn that it’s not bad to have fun. Time taken for mental health purposes or to have a break is not a waste of time. Since I set foot in college, my internalized capitalism has changed my mindset to believe that every minute of our lives should be put toward gaining experience or skills for our resume. Slowly but surely, I am learning every day that it’s okay to slow down and take it one day at a time.

Life is short — it’s true. But the way we choose to interpret this oversaid phrase can alter our lives for the better. I once believed that because life is short, I should spend every minute of it trying to achieve a professional goal. But there are other goals worth achieving in our short lives.

Life is short, so I will choose to spend it doing things I enjoy — more days spent on picnics, runs, and shopping trips, and less days spent on a sunny afternoon on the third floor of Snell Library.

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IT'S OKAY TO SLOW DOWN AND TAKE IT ONE DAY AT A TIME

creative direction SIMRAN GVALANI art direction KAELA ANDERSON photography PEYTON POLLARD contributing photo direction AUNG THANT KYAW & CALEM ROBERTSON design RENEE PEARCE styling direction HILLARY NANA-ADJEI & QUIRIN EMANGA

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SYNTHESIS modeling QUIRIN EMANGA & KIIRA AMECHI styling AVERY PARKER & MAGGIE VON NORTWICK & NELL SWEENEY & SAMIR A-RAHIM & ABBY FALZONE & COCO LHERITIER & ELANA LANE & GRACE GILLEN makeup artist AZRA SCHORR

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MIXING AN ARRAY OF IDEAS TO MAKE A WHOLE THAT IS DIFFERENT, OR NEW.

A BRIDGE BETWEEN WORLDS 5

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I want to say I was 8-years-old when I started showing interest in being famous. Who didn’t? I had watched award shows and the Met Gala for as long as I could remember, telling myself that I was going to be on that screen — just like every other kid did.

The difference was that I actually got that opportunity, and it became the start of years of suffering, hatred, and sorrow.

Don’t get me wrong — I had the time of my life as a model. I did runway shows and enjoyed every minute of it. Being backstage, talking to the older models, getting my hair done, taking pictures with strangers who my mom told me were “big in her day,” and, of course, the pay (all of which I spent on American Girl doll accessories). What kid doesn’t love getting dismissed early from school, nevermind for events like that? And my parents were happy to see me happy — I had an opportunity that they didn’t have growing up. I could be rich, successful, and have everything I wanted without limits. My hopes were high — above reality.

for me, it meant the destruction of my modeling career. My height hit its mark, the hair on my arms grew thicker, and I no longer had a slim figure. I had learned in my prime years of modeling to love my accomplishments, and not to love myself. I started feeling the need to fill the void that should have been filled with the love I should have for myself with those accomplishments. I stopped eating almost completely and I started doing sports at my middle school, thinking it would help my cause. It was just something to aid the goals I had— not only to lose weight, but to fit in with my peers. I thought that if I deprived my mental and physical health even further, I could fill the void with my success.

And the worst thing is, it worked. I fit into the dress, walked the runway, took my photos with strangers, and continued to feel on top of the world.

What went wrong for me is basic biology — I was growing. I developed like any other 12- or 13-yearold does, with all of the awkwardness in the world.

Everyone goes through that process of change, but

MY HOPES WERE HIGH — ABOVE REALITY.

writing HALIMA DUARTE

modeling HALIMA DUARTE photography LUCY MURREY design CLAIRE HIGGINS

I won’t sit here and say that I was the one who snapped myself out of it, especially because these struggles still follow me to this day.

I can’t say if it was her motherly instinct or just the fact that I was not eating anything in a Portuguese household, but my mom knew that something was up. When a modeling agency reached out and expressed their interest in me, my mom agreed to meet with them and I was excited. I was convinced that this meant I finally was getting everything I wanted. I don’t remember much of what they discussed — it was all “big people stuff,” but what resonated with me that day was my mom’s worried face. I wondered if I had done something wrong, or if the lady had been lying and my mom could tell. We got back into the car and my mom explained to me that I would be taking a break to focus on school. I was fine with it on the outside, but so much followed me internally afterwards that it wrecked me. But at this point in life, I was good at putting on a brave face.

It would be cliché of me to say I didn’t fit in with kids at my school, but more that I missed those core activities that grouped them together. I didn’t take karate at the local studio when I was 10, I didn't sign up for softball or basketball when I was 12, I didn’t go roller skating every Friday, or walk around the malls with $20 for hours. I tried, but it seemed like the exploration that I could have done had been capped. It was too late to do the things kids my age liked to do. I tried my hardest — cheerleading, track, cross-country, field hockey, lacrosse, student government... the list goes on and on. No matter what I did, I truly felt like I didn’t belong and I didn’t feel connected to anything. Everyone had spent their childhoods playing, doing sports, meeting people their age, and I did none of that. Everyone had their groups, and it seemed to me that everyone else knew who they wanted to be.

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I REALIZED THAT I HAD TO BE WILLING TO DISTINGUISH MYSELF FROM THE WORLD THAT SURROUNDS ME.

I think this feeling of being an outsider and my lack of bonding is why I kept coming back to not eating, “nourishing” myself with only my accomplishment.

That need to stop eating came back to me almost every year of high school for different reasons.

Now, I always turn back and ask, “Where did I go wrong?” or “Where could I have been better?”

But it was strictly the toxic environments that had dragged me in since I was 10 years old, helplessly and without knowing. I am a product of my environment. It started at the moment where I thought I had gotten the opportunity to be the “celebrity” that I had always dreamed of being. Through modeling, I had isolated myself from a childhood world of

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laughter, enjoyment, and being carefree — without knowing it. That has impacted the rest of my life, the choices I have made, and the way I have handled every situation since.

To understand myself and how I reacted to being a model, I first had to understand the isolation that I experienced, the demands of modeling, my desire for success, and how it all led to emptiness. It took years of growth and learning, and in the end, I realized that I had to be willing to distinguish myself from the world that surrounds me. From there, it became my world.

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DE S I RE

THE NEXT GENERATION OF DESIGNERS A CASE STUDY 5

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When thinking of the main players who shaped contemporary luxury fashion, designers such as Coco Chanel, Alexander Mcqueen, and Yves Saint Laurent may be brought to mind — designers whose contributions, along with many others, have built up the industry as we know it today.

However, recent years have lent themselves to shifts in focus towards independent, up-andcoming designers and design houses, whose visions have been no less revolutionary. An era has now emerged where celebrities do not limit themselves to exclusively wearing pieces from popular designers, but now wear pieces that are in line with their style, regardless of who they are made by. They celebrate the devotion that these independent creators possess in handcrafting and designing their work, appreciating their art in a society emblazoned by the rituals of fast fashion and mass production of clothing in the global space.

Technology has been a key player throughout this transition, as many up and coming designers are using the Internet as a learning tool and social media as a way to share and popularize their designs.

Gen-Z, in particular, has built up a reputation of being one of the most resourceful generations to date, the generation fierce in fulfilling their passions in the most resoundingly creative and artistic ways. It has provided them with the tools to learn and inspire, catapulting many to fully engage with fashion as a mode of design and self-expression.

Abby Falzone, a second year at Northeastern University, is a true embodiment of Gen-Z’s passion for the world of design and self-expression through fashion. With her ardent determination, she successfully launched BABYJADE, her own label, and is now the chief executive officer and the label’s main creative director.

“I have always loved seeing all the ways a piece of clothing can move with a body, and had been following independent designers and streetwear brands for years. I was amazed by how rapidly they had grown,” said Falzone, “I thought, if they can do it, so can I.” Her first collection, which dropped last year in August, featured pieces with hand-painted designs, embracing femininity in an “indie, fun, and sort of flirtatious” way.

writing SARA AKHTAR modeling RANDALL GEE & ABBY FALZONE photography CATHERINE TITCOMB design MARENA RAMIREZ

stylists RANDALL GEE & ABBY FALZONE

EMBODIED ANDROGYNY AND UTILITARIANISM, EMBRACING HER PERSONAL PHILOSOPHY

Over time, the brand evolved as Falzone’s personal style began to shift towards pieces that embodied androgyny and utilitarianism, embracing her own philosophy. “Expressing yourself and what you want to express, [is what’s important], rather than what society is telling you to,” said Falzone.

Falzone sought to convey this message through her more recent “Hands Off!” collection, a social commentary on discomfort regarding sexualizing non-sexualized clothing, which she finds a pervasive issue in modern society. Although this recent collection features less of Falzone’s original art, it is powerful in what it seeks to convey— placing vibrant paint handprints on the front and backsides of button-down shirts and Dickies pants to lessen the stigma around commonly objectified female body parts. In addition to selling clothing, Falzone commissioned posters to add to the collection as well.

“In navigating creative direction for this collection, I wanted to add in a more editorial and contemporary feel that aligned with the pieces in “Hands Off!” I felt that the posters were an exciting way to make BABYJADE a label, and not just a brand” she explained.

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Randall Gee, a third-year at Northeastern University, is another design visionary and nonconformist in the fashion industry. Like Falzone, Gee is the chief executive officer and designer of his label— RWG Studio. In his free time he designs pieces for himself, oftentimes fashioning modern corset-style tops out of denim and screen printing designs to complement his own contemporary style. He shared these designs through social media, where they quickly gained momentum within the Boston community. In the summer of 2021, Gee sold a curated assortment of his pieces at Expired Collections, a former clothing boutique on Newbury Street. Now, he sells pieces from his collections independently.

Gee is continuously designing items that are high-fashion, but utilitarian and sustainable in their nature, to share his work with more people in his life. As a fashion enthusiast, Gee explains how a lot of his interest stems from how clothing shapes people’s perceptions of one another.

“Fashion plays such a large role in the ways in which we are perceived by others, and can be incredibly affirming for the way we want people to perceive us,” said Gee. “It is an art form that is meant to be worn, and is actively put on our bodies and closely associated with our identities, unlike a sculpture or painting that is far removed.”

IT IS AN ART FORM THAT IS MEANT TO BE WORN

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A CONSCIOUS EFFORT TO DESIGN PIECES THAT CAN BE REWORKED AND REWORN

Like Falzone, Gee hopes those that wear his collection feel confident, and has made a conscious effort to design pieces that can be reworked and worn in several different ways.

“What never goes out of style is clothing that makes you feel good about yourself,” he said, explaining that simple, attention grabbing pieces are the keys to success in fashion and defining personal style, though they may be less trendy.

Gee believes that the rise of the Internet has had a definite role in expanding his capabilities.

“It has democratized a lot of resources in fashion, especially in terms of finding clothing patterns and tutorials teaching people how to sew or embroider,” explained Gee. “Many are shared online for free, which is really helpful for independent design.”

E-Commerce has also been a massive enabler for both Falzone and Gee, who first set up their brands on Instagram and still facilitate orders through the links attached to their pages. Aside from the actual retailing process, being able to manage social media presence has been an important part of successfully running their businesses.

“Instagram has played a massive role in the development of BABYJADE. I have conceptualized photoshoots around content for my feed, I use it regularly to communicate with customers, and it is the main way I advertise, as it is a free and accessible tool I can use to market to my own personal Instagram followers,” said Falzone.

There’s no doubt that the rise of the Internet over the last decade has helped uplift independent designers, like Falzone and Gee, in their stylistic pursuits. It has opened up a world of possibilities in the fashion industry, not only providing creatives with endless resources and capabilities to develop their brands, but the power to share it with millions if utilized correctly. Breaking through into the high fashion scene is no longer a distant point on the horizon, but one that is inching closer and closer for these designers by the second.

strutting the

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With models “missing in action,” replaced with drones flying over the audience holding dresses, handbags, and coats, a Saudi Arabian fashion show’s artistic choices caught the attention of viewers globally. While there was a bit of confusion over why actual models weren’t used for the “Fashion House” show (held for Ramadan by the Al ash-Sheikh family), it was one of the most interesting ways a fashion show had ever been held. Once in a while, we have experienced a break-off from the typical runway routine, but never to this extent.

In order to switch things up, designers in the past have altered backdrops, included live performances, or booked incredible locations. For their SS19 couture show, Chanel built a French country house, Villa Chanel. Looking a bit further back, Fendi held the SS08 show on the Great Wall of China. Looking at examples like these, it’s clear that with hundreds of fashion shows happening each season, designers have always had to think outside-of-the-box to keep the creative and visual elements of their shows exciting and garner attention. It was already in practice to go big when planning fashion shows, but a year like 2020 required a truly creative, never-before-seen way of thinking.

writing EBUBE ONWUSIKA

design MEGAN LAM

RIGHT IN THE WAKE OF THE PANDEMIC, FASHION SHOWS AS A WHOLE WENT ON A PAUSE.

At the beginning of the hysteria, there was uncertainty as to how long the pandemic would last, so it was perceived as a break. Many thought of it as a one month vacation for designers, models, makeup artists, hairstylists and spectators alike.

However, as the weeks morphed into months, it became clear that the pandemic wasn’t ending anytime soon — the options were either that designers had to find a new way to showcase their work, or that a large part of this industry would be done for. For established household names like Versace and Prada, riding on established customer loyalty and brand recognition gave them a buffer from the consequences of not having shows.

However, newer brands hoping to get a big break during fashion week were a lot less fortunate.

Regardless of a brand’s popularity, there was no quick replacement for live fashion shows that are usually supplied with a packed audience.

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As far as social distancing went, the average audience of 100,000 people at New York Fashion Week and the standard side-by-side seating did not come anywhere near the city’s pandemic requirements. This meant that designers had to find a way to showcase new collections to eager spectators without breaking safety precautions.

Eventually, technology paved the way for a solution — fashion week would go digital. Some shows went completely guest-free and viewable by digital device. As for models, different designers approached this in several ways, with some opting to also go model-free.

Hanifa, a women’s apparel line, went fully virtual with production, showcasing styles through music videos and 3-D modeling. Thierry Mugler’s SS21 show modeled outfits using computer-generated versions of real-life models. Jeremy Scott of Moschino ignored technology in production and went for a fashion show modeled and attended by puppets. From the “models,” to invited “guests,” (of which included Anna Wintour), everyone was made into a marionette. Jacquemus held the SS21 show

in a wheat field an hour from Paris, with only wheat barley on each side of the runway for an audience.

While the models walked the paths, camera drones hovered around.

There is no doubt that fashion shows will continue to take place the way that they did before 2020 — the traditional style remains timeless — but now, designers have been given a new way to share the vision behind collections. The vague direction that designers had going into the pandemic, coupled with the velocity at which they had to find a solution, revealed fashion shows rich in creativity and dynamic reality, capturing eccentric angles for the at-home audience. Designers have been able to put more of their personal stories into the show, further displaying the individuality that drives the artistic and visual creative process. It’s always been there, but now it’s written in bold, and we’ve got better seats to view them from.

finding inner beauty

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Growing up, my Aunty would call me and my sisters her “pretty girls” or her “beautiful girls.” She would say it in the mornings before we got on the bus for school, and again when the sun had set and she kissed us goodnight. The belief that I was pretty, or even beautiful, was ingrained in my head from when I could barely write my own name in crayon. As I got older, my mindset warped, and these affirmations became increasingly more difficult to believe. Middle school brought forth new tribulations that every child faces — braces, growth spurts, making new friends, you name it. The end of middle school was when I noticed that I was beginning to stick out from the students that surrounded me.

Eighth grade unveiled smiles that had fewer and fewer metal brackets covering their teeth. Friend groups seemed to be established, with seven or so likeminded boys and girls crowding the halls in between classes. Measuring in at roughly 5 foot 8 inches with a mouth full of wire and lacking a posse of my own, my self confidence dropped, and in turn, so did my belief that I was beautiful.

At just 13 years old, I had convinced myself that I was not "up-to-standard" with the people around me. I felt inclined to do something about this — something other than just waiting for my braces to be removed, or for a friend group to magically appear. I wanted to feel confident, like all of the people around me appeared to be. So, I got to work.

MY SELF-CONFIDENCE DROPPED, AND IN TURN, SO DID MY BELIEF THAT I WAS BEAUTIFUL.

High school began and I was determined to do anything to change how I felt. I saw the girls around me and decided to mimic them the best that I could. I tried to wear the same outfits they did, which brought forth new and unforeseen challenges. The stores these girls shopped at, such as Brandy Melville and Garage, did not make clothes for my body type. Initially, this was no help to my confidence, but looking back now, it’s clear how important this was for me to start my journey in finding what made me feel beautiful.

writing KATHERINE PINNOCK modeling UMA BHUJU & ALLIE KUO photography KIMMY CURRY design KIMMY CURRY

With no way to mimic the images of external beauty in front of me, I was left to develop my own. I stopped looking for their favorite clothing and I began to find mine. Rose-pink Timberlands became a staple in my closet after hours spent at the mall, sifting through pairs of shoes that would make me feel like my best self. I traded their one-size-fits-all Brandy Melville sweatpants for denim skirts and oversized jean jackets in blue, black, and purple. I decided that I liked crewnecks with bright colors and cool textures and patterns. It didn’t matter whether my clothes were

reflected something personal. I knew that I needed to work on the type of person that I wanted to be: someone who is kind and loving, who could be mature but also maintain my spirit from adolescence. This was — and is — the most tedious, emotionally demanding part of my experience of uncovering the beauty that resides within me. It requires hours of reteaching myself to believe the affirming ideas that others have articulated to me. I am learning to compliment myself while wearing outfits I love and to congratulate myself on my achievements. I am making self-love a

conventionally cool or trendy — I felt good about what I was wearing.

practice, something that I understand cannot be achieved overnight, but can be constantly worked on and made stronger.

Developing my own sense of style was the beginning.

It gave me a taste of the confidence that came with feeling like I was beautiful, but something was missing.

It was clear that I had only solved half of my problem.

The other half came after the realization that what is inside — my mindset and beliefs — is more important than my appearance, even when that appearance

I CREATE MY OWN DEFINITION OF BEAUTY.

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The process of finding who I am and discovering the unique beauty that resides within me is long and arduous. It requires days and months of trial and error to see the growth that is often overshadowed by moments of stagnancy. The process of uncovering the distinctive characteristics within me takes more patience, trust, and honesty than I could have ever imagined I possessed, but the lessons that it is teaching me are priceless. My mentality from eighth grade to now has changed drastically — I’ve learned that there is a direct connection between feeling confident and feeling beautiful. From developing my own sense of style that empowers me, to altering my mindset to believe in myself, there is no doubt that I am growing, slowly but surely. While I know that this journey is far from complete, I am moving into my future with the confidence to continue to create my own definition of beauty.

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self love

Drift

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photography AUNG THANT-KYAW art direction KAELA ANDERSON creative direction SIMRAN GVALANI modeling RENEE PEARCE design OLIVIANNE IRIARTE contributing photo direction CALEM ROBERTSON styling AVERY PARKER & MAGGIE VON NORTWICK styling direction HILLARY NANA-ADJEI & QUIRIN EMANGA makeup artist AZRA SCHORR & NELL SWEENEY & SAMIR A-RAHIM & ABBY FALZONE & COCO LHERITIER & ELANA LANE & GRACE GILLEN

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AN A CLOTH

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THROUGH / WATER

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a slower pace

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THERE WASN'T SOME QUICK SWITCH IN MY BRAIN WHERE I SUDDENLY STARTED THINKING DIFFERENTLY.

For the longest time, I wasn’t living for me. I was simply running through the motions of who I thought I was supposed to become. All my life, I’ve been told to focus on the present and stop worrying about the things I cannot change. I’m sure many of us have heard this sentiment, although few of us choose to listen. The world is full of hectic people planning, stressing, rushing — and I used to be one of them — constantly on the go, constantly in the chaos. I always dwelled on the past and simultaneously needed to know what my life would look like years into the future.

A lot of my stress was coming from feeling the need to be perfect at everything. In grade school, I felt I had to get an A+ in everything because that was the best. I saw everything as a stepping stone to something else. If I missed a step or did something poorly, I would imagine myself tumbling all the way back down. In school, I would get upset over a problem if I couldn’t understand it right away. My parents would try to reason with me that it wasn’t the end of the world, but to me it was.

In my mind, I needed good grades so that I could have a perfect GPA so that I could get into a good college. I needed to get into a good college to land a fantastic, well-paying job. I saw no other options.

There were no other options to the “perfect” life that I wanted. Back then, I don’t think I knew what a perfect life truly meant to me.

writing AUTUMN RHONEMUS photography LAUREN WALSH

I not only used to worry over my grades but my social life as well — having major social anxiety when I was younger limited me greatly. My parents even went as far as putting me into a special group in elementary school. There, we would play games in the guidance counselor's office during lunchtime.

I’m not sure how much being in that group helped — I didn’t even know what it was until later in life.

By the time high school came around, I was more friendly and outgoing, but I still worried about what others thought about me. I would overthink everything I wanted to say.

Starting in middle school, I got really depressed.

I disliked who I was. I lost most of the friends that I had grown up with. I felt alone. Why did no one like me? Why didn't I like myself? I started seeing a therapist and realized how helpful it was to talk with someone about how I felt. After a few years, and new friendships, I started being able to love myself again. I realized the pressure I put on myself had lead to the inevitable burnout that took control of me for so long. There wasn’t some quick switch in my brain where I suddenly started thinking differently. Over time, with a lot of thoughtful effort to change myself and my surroundings, I became whole again.

modeling SAM KROT & MARIE SIOPY design TANYA KLER

Coming to accept that my life doesn’t need to be “perfect,” by any means has helped me more than I could have imagined. I realize now that the idea of perfection is not something I want anymore. I want a life where I am happy and healthy. As I start my junior year of college, I’ve stopped second guessing and micro-analyzing everything I do. I no longer rehearse in my head what I am going to say in conversations, or care about fitting in, or even care if I get a bad grade here and there. Realizing that there is so much more behind the idea of perfection has changed me more than I could have imagined. I’ve finally learned to embrace all that makes me, uniquely me. I’m still evolving as well, and I’m learning to be okay with that. I’m learning to put myself and my happiness first — life’s too short to not do the silly things that will make you happy.

Now that I’m living life at a slower pace, I see everyone speeding by me. It’s a surreal feeling as I watch how I used to live: chasing perfection, trying to grasp control of the past and future.

NOW THAT I'M LIVING LIFE AT A SLOWER PACE, I SEE EVERYONE SPEEDING BY ME.

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Looking back at the past two years through the eyes of fashion is to view a world bound for change.

The fashion industry suffered as many other sectors did. Fashion weeks were canceled, retail stores were closed, and manufacturing was put on hold due to health concerns. With the world in a standstill, major fashion houses, as well as independent and big-name designers, felt the massive toll the pandemic was having on people and businesses all around the world. However, as fashion slowly began to open back up, the industry found itself changed by emerging themes, trends, and designers.

Emerging Trends in the Midst of a Pandemic Just two years ago, masks had exclusively been associated with the medical field. It was rare to see someone in the U.S. wearing a mask, even when sick and out in public. As masks became mandated and the pandemic spiraled out of control, face coverings became essential. Over time, a gradual shift occurred, from masks as just a form of protection to masks as a fashion accessory as well. This craze started with the rise of individuals and companies making fabric masks, in the wake of a global PPE shortage from the pandemic. Out of this came a growing popularity of colorful and patterned masks, making it trendy to match your mask to your outfit.

If you didn’t want one to clash with the other, it was common to see people wearing black masks. As this trend diffused quickly, more and more brands started incorporating branded masks into their collections, solidifying a functional product into an essential accessory. Not only did this create a trend of fashionable protective wear, but it also positively impacted and incentivized mask wearing, creating a shift in the way we viewed them. It’s highly likely that once the pandemic runs its course, fashionable masks will stay around much longer.

writing MARTINA COLZI RISALITI photography EMANUELE DOKYI

Additionally, as both school and work moved online, loungewear became a staple, redefining what was once considered unprofessional. Although the concept of loungewear as more than just comfortable clothing isn’t new (e.g., matching sets and athleisure), the cross-sectionalism between professionalism and loungewear is a concept that emerged out of our “work-from-home” attire: blazer on top and sweats on the bottom. During the past few months, even the most high-end designers incorporated loungewear in their collections, highlighted in looks on runways and paired with heels by fashion’s most influential figures. Although born out of the need for comfort, when Anna Wintour posted a picture wearing bright red sweatpants during an at-home zoom meeting, the fashion world knew that loungewear was not a passing trend, but one that was bound to keep growing.

Out with the New, In with the Old The pandemic saw a variety of trend revivals, especially Y2K-era trends. Due to being locked in our homes, there was a collective craving for the nostalgic. The 2000s were back in full force, as influencers and brands alike were showing off low rise jeans, baby-t’s, chunky platform boots, cropped tank tops, tiny sunglasses, shoulder bags, and bedazzled outfits. Given the popularity of TikTok during lockdown, the popularity of fashion on the platform, and the time that people had at home to experiment with outfits, the accelerated pace of Y2K style’s revival is unsurprising. In fact, outfits inspired by movies that came out during the early 2000s were exploding online, such as the colorful purple, pink, green, and blue dress worn by Jennifer Garner’s character in the movie 13 Going on 30. On runways, Y2K-inspired pieces have also recently been seen. During Versace’s FW21 show, Donatella Versace created a collection that was reminiscent of Bratz Dolls with huge platform chunky heels and mini skirts.

modeling HENRY ABRAMS & COCO LHERITIER design CLAIRE HIGGINS stylists COCO LHERITIER

While many attribute this Y2K revival to TikTok, it’s hard to ignore the connection of the speed of adoption to the pandemic. Fashion enthusiasts needed something that felt familiar, even among generations that didn’t live through the 2000s.

The nostalgia that these trends brought back through items that could be worn to feel closer to a time before isolation is what solidified this revival within the fashion industry.

Adapting to Save Creativity Many designers had to adapt to the pandemic both as creatives and for their businesses to survive.

House of Aama, a brand created by mother-daughter duo Rebecca Henry and Akua Sabaka which celebrates folkways, the Black experience, and timeless fashion, saw an incredible growth opportunity during the pandemic. Fashion has always been a vehicle for storytelling, celebration, and passing down traditions, and during a time where social interaction and proximity was limited, their designs brought the joy and nostalgia of storytelling back through fashion and created a space to celebrate the Black experience during a time of growing social and civil unrest.

Matty Bovan, a UK based designer, took a step back and found a way to incorporate sustainability within his designs. For him, the pandemic allowed a moment to reflect on his brand’s impact on the environment and how we choose to indulge in fashion, both from what businesses put out and how consumers choose to consume. His entire collection is made in the UK by sourcing sustainable materials such as recycled custom handmade sequins used to embellish his designs. Additionally, many of the accessories that Bovan uses are vintage and reused items that he either found or thrifted.

FASHION WILL CONTINUE TO RECOVER GRADUALLY AND BRING IMMENSE CHANGE ALONG WITH IT.

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Charles Jeffrey, designer of LOVERBOY, saw an incredible opportunity brought by the virtual setting that we were all launched into. Instead of a conventional website, Charles Jeffrey wanted his e-store to be the perfect virtual space for people to explore.

According to Jeffrey, he wanted “a ‘virtual experience’ – a space that people would want to hang out in and listen to or play with, maybe even shop too!”

The adaptation period that many of these designers had to go through portrayed how ready the industry is for change, especially in furthering diversity and sustainable efforts.

The Future of Fashion Fashion will continue to recover gradually and bring immense change along with it. Key themes that were once on the back burner, such as sustainability, are set to explode as up-and-coming designers are setting new standards for business, consumption, and fashion trends alike. Although spaces

continue to open back up and fashion weeks are in full force this year, the virtual aspect of this pandemic may not be completely abandoned. Virtual shows allowed designers to have more fluid spaces to showcase creativity and provided greater access to their art for anyone and everyone. As some trends are bound to dissipate, others that emerged during the pandemic are here to stay. It’ll be interesting to see how much longer masks are going to be a part of our closets and if loungewear will become more present in the realm of professional attire.

Regardless of how much this industry suffered during the first year and a half of the pandemic, its recovery and immense changes prove its resilience.

Trends that emerged during a year defined by an ongoing pandemic will not be left in 2021, and have proven to have made lasting changes that will shape the future of the fashion industry.

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IS PLASTIC SURGERY IN? As an avid reality TV watcher, I can easily say that one of my favorite shows is “Botched.”

standards change over time, and women can feel pressure to change their bodies to fit into

The show follows two plastic surgeons, Dr. Terry Dubrow and Dr. Paul Nassif, as they try to correct plastic surgeries that have gone wrong. Some of the more popular episodes include one where a woman’s breast implants made it look like she had one breast and another where a patient admitted that she had pig skin sewn into her abdomen to support her breasts. When I watch “Botched,” I always have a ton of questions — for both patients and surgeons. What surgeon would approve of an eighth nose-job? What circumstances did this person face to even make them consider getting an eighth nose-job? Could it be due to the type of images we see online?

the new standard. What we deem the “perfect” body in 2021 is not what was considered the “perfect” body in 2001. This also leads to changes in plastic surgery trends.

Social media definitely plays a role in setting trends for plastic surgeries, especially the extreme surgeries that are featured on shows like “Botched.” We have so many filters and photo-editing apps that can instantly slim us down or change how we look, and we are constantly bombarded with photos of social media influencers that seem to have the perfect bodies and faces. In reality, women have been striving to fit beauty standards for a long time. The problem is that these

Nowadays, the Brazilian Butt Lift, or BBL, is a popular plastic surgery, according to The Aesthetic Guide. Before the BBL, breast implants were one of the more popular procedures to get. Mainstream beauty standards celebrated busty women, while viewing a large backside or being “slim thick” as undesirable. The movie “White Chicks” has perfect examples of the early ‘00s’ beauty standards. A memorable scene shows a white woman asking in a horrified tone if her ass looks fat. This little moment shows how different communities have different ideals, and how some ideals can cross over into the mainstream.

Plastic surgery often appropriates features that are common in communities of color. In the Black-American community, fuller, thicker lips and bigger butts have long been sought-after and often-seen features. Now that celebrities like the Kardashians have gotten lip fillers and BBLs, these characteristics have become mainstream. Another person who exemplifies this appropriation through surgery is Oli London. London, who is white, has gotten

writing ALAYNA THOMAS

design TANYA KLER

multiple plastic surgeries to resemble the K-pop star Jimin from BTS. In response, East Asian people have talked about how their features have been ridiculed historically, and how contradictory it is that someone (and their followers) now considers it “cool” to have surgery to possess said traits.

Looking beyond the appropriation, viewing individual body parts as “trends” is dangerous. Plastic surgery can be a permanent or semi-permanent change to the body. This is not like buying a bunch of trendy clothing items just to see the trend end a few months after you purchase them. If you want to get rid of the clothes, it is easy to do so. It is not easy to reverse a plastic surgery.

In addition, the recovery process is not pretty.

Social media influencers and celebrities usually do not show their recovery process, which can cause people to have unrealistic expectations for plastic surgery. Depending on the procedure, many patients experience bruising, bleeding, restricted motion, and side effects from medication, often for weeks or even months after their procedure. Someone who is seriously considering plastic surgery needs to look into the complications that the procedure could entail.

Recently, I got plastic surgery myself. Since high school, I had been looking into getting a breast reduction. I had done hours upon hours of research on the surgery and looked into the best surgeons in my city for that procedure. I researched how the surgery was performed, what to expect the day of surgery, and how the recovery process went. I even looked into the different incisions the surgeon could make. I had

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struggled a lot with my self-esteem due to the way my body looked and I believed that getting a breast reduction could help me with that. I wanted to get it in the summer of 2020, but hospitals were not allowing elective surgeries due to the pandemic.

So, when my city allowed elective surgeries this past spring, I was ecstatic. I made an appointment with a surgeon as quickly as I could.

During the first consultation with my surgeon and nurse practitioner, I was asked a lot of questions about my mental health. They asked if I struggled with eating disorders, depression, or body dysmorphia. They also underscored the importance of having a realistic mindset. I was told that even though a breast reduction could help with my self-perception, I would still have to work on boosting my self-esteem. I am honestly so grateful that my doctor was up-front with me and made sure that I was a good candidate for the surgery.

And I can truly say that the surgery positively changed my life. I feel much more confident and I wear clothes that my high school self never thought I could wear because they would never fit me right.

I will be the first to tell you that plastic surgery is not necessarily a bad thing. If you are interested in having a procedure done, do your research diligently, take the time to assess why you really want the surgery, and consult with a qualified surgeon. However, when you only get plastic surgery to follow trends or consult with surgeons that prey on patients, the result may not be as good. You want to get yourself a Terry DuBrow or a Paul Nassif — not one of the surgeons whose work they correct.

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BEATS PER MINUTE: THE SPEED OF SOUND IN DAILY LIFE

I’ve always felt intrigued by the power that music has over the speed and direction of my life.

I first felt its force on an October night during my sophomore year of high school when I attended my first concert in Boston. My mom picked me and two of my closest friends up and drove us from our rural Connecticut hometown to the famed Lansdowne Street, where the House of Blues stands underneath the glow of Fenway Park’s stadium lights.

The main act was a small English band that only had one full-length album out — Glass Animals. As I exited the venue, buzzing with excitement from the electrifying performance, I watched in awe as dozens of college-aged students hopped on the train, grabbed Blue Bikes, or walked back to their dorms with their friends. They seemed infinitely older, cooler, and wiser than 15-year-old me. I longed to have their freedom to explore the city with such ease. It was that night I decided I would try my hardest to attend a university in Boston.

writing TESSA RIGBY photography HILLARY NANA-ADJEI

modeling KEVIN ZHANG & AVA ROGNLIEN design TANYA KLER

stylist

Since that night, music has continued to change the speed and trajectory of my life, giving every day a unique, rhythmic momentum. Not a day goes by that I’m not listening to something. I choose what to play and when to play it, but the music has its own way of affecting me entirely.

A modern rock song propels me through my morning during the workweek. I’ve come to love the classically loud strumming of an electric guitar and the varied hits of a drum kit to start my day. Jack Antonoff’s big-room vocals or Joe Keery’s riffs from his album “Twenty Twenty” give even the most mundane morning tasks a touch of electric coolness.

I rely on the groove of alternative albums to propel me through the first half of my workday. The synths on Tame Impala’s “The Slow Rush” — an album about time — combine to create a pleasant, psychedelic cacophony that compresses the nine-to-five hours down to what feels like minutes.

Energy flows to every point in my body when I listen to Doja Cat and Travis Scott during an afternoon spin class. The studio lights come down until the room is submerged in darkness, and I depend on the predictable hits of a trap beat to keep my heart thumping and my body moving in time.

When I walk into the living room in the evening, my roommate plays the smooth, swaying sounds of Leon Bridges and H.E.R on our TV speaker and the sweet acoustic guitar, dry snap percussion, and layered vocals provide a tranquil backdrop for cooking dinner and catching up. The lyrics, tender and poetic, keep me firmly rooted in the present.

These moments are everywhere. It’s in the way an indie-pop track feels effortlessly light on a Saturday morning, like my feet are barely touching the ground as I skirt around an empty kitchen. It’s in the way the subtle riser in an electronic dance song makes me hold my breath right before it drops, the track’s hollow, heavy beat syncopating with that in my chest.

Perhaps the thing I value the most about music is its concurrent universality and subjectivity.

These two qualities seem counter to each other at first — how can something be both universal and subjective? A beat in 4/4 time is just that: four quarter notes, every measure. It’s objective in the same way I understand math to be. Music’s beauty lies in its concurrent subjectivity. Anyone — artist or listener — can imbue their own meaning onto any song. The creation and interpretation of music is limited only by the range of human emotion and creativity. In other words, it is limitless.

MUSIC'S BEAUTY LIES IN ITS CONCURRENT SUBJECTIVITY.

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WHERE WILL MUSIC BRING ME NEXT?

This axiom is why it is one of the universal cultural aspects of all human societies. It’s the reason we’ve been making music for as long as we’ve been around as a species, with no signs of stopping. It’s the reason I love discussing music with my friends so much, learning the genres they’re enjoying and the albums they play on repeat and the artists they can’t stand. It’s why I’m a firm believer that there’s no such thing as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ taste in music. Everyone has their own catalog that is deeply personal and entirely their own.

Earlier this fall, I had the opportunity to see Glass Animals in concert again, this time at the soldout Leader Bank Pavilion in Seaport. It made me emotional to see how much they’ve grown over the past six years since I saw them play for the first time on Lansdowne Street. They’re no longer just a small indie band playing a weeknight show at the House of Blues. As I swayed in time with the songs that have defined my young adult years, I felt these emotions turn inward. I’m no longer a wide-eyed teenager in awe of Boston and its inhabitants. In the six years that elapsed, I became the young adult that my high school self longed to be. Now, well into my fourth year of college, I always smile when I pass the House of Blues with my friends after a Red Sox game or on a night out to a Fenway bar — a silent and personal acknowledgement of the life that music has guided me towards. As the smooth, wailing guitar and dreamy vocals echoed through the stadium, I closed my eyes and wondered to myself: where will music bring me next?

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HOW TO BECOME BEAUTIFUL I was eight years old when I started getting acne. I knew what it was and I knew that I wasn’t supposed to like it. Somehow, I didn’t care. I knew that I was more than my pimples and nobody worth my time would make me feel bad about them. How did I know that? I’d like to think that I was wise beyond my years. Ten years later, and I still don’t have the answer. All I know is that I have never felt more beautiful than when I was eight years old.

When I was 11, I started to look at myself — really look at myself. My skin, my teeth, my height, my weight. It was all fair game. Nobody around me looked quite like me, and I started to take notice.

Every moment I spent in my predominantly-white hometown reminded me of what I was not. Not pretty enough, not skinny enough, not light enough.

Quickly, I forgot what beauty felt like.

At 13, I discovered the term ‘beauty standard’.

Suddenly, I understood why I didn’t feel pretty anymore and I thought I knew exactly how to fix it. I began to analyze and emulate girls that fit these standards, following the prettiest celebrities I knew on social media in hopes that their beauty would somehow rub off on me through my cell phone screen. My worth became determined by my proximity to this unattainable benchmark and I became obsessed with hiding the parts that didn’t

fit my standards. I did everything in my power to make myself prettier and smaller, because I thought that was how the world of appearing feminine worked. My relationship with femininity became more about my desire to fit beauty standards and less about my personal identity. I sacrificed everything that made me uniquely me to avoid being masculinized as a tall, Black woman, and it worked — until it didn’t, and I lost who I was.

By the time I turned 16, I was tired. Sure, I felt accepted, but I didn’t feel like myself anymore. I didn’t even feel beautiful. I wore clothes I didn’t feel comfortable in, curated a 10-step skincare routine, and followed trends that I didn’t like — for what? Unfulfilled and exhausted, I knew that something needed to change. I needed to move, to learn, to grow. I wanted my eight year old brain back — the one that loved every inch of myself unapologetically, even if nobody else did.

I knew that I had to focus on the things that made me feel truly beautiful. It took a lot of time, effort, and tears, but once I found those things, everything else became easy. Once I realized that my body was the least interesting or beautiful thing about me, I got to know the rest of myself. I found beauty in my passions and interests, likes and dislikes.

After years of shielding my eyes from mirrors, I

writing BRIANNA NNADI PAPPAS & BRIANNA NNADI

modeling SARAH DEEN & SOPHIA SEREMETI & KAREN KURSON & GEORGIA photography MIA RAPELLA design THANDIWE TEMBO

forced myself to look at my body in all of its glory and I have never felt freer. I allowed myself to love the parts of me that I once hated, becoming infatuated with my beautiful dark skin, my powerful height, and my bouncy curls. I felt feminine and womanly without forcing myself to fit into society’s narrow perception of what a “beautiful woman” is. I finally felt secure and comfortable in my own skin.

In prioritizing myself, I had to let go of my obsession with others’ perceptions of me. I had to refocus my attention from external validation, especially the idea of male validation that often feels like a prerequisite for womanhood, where I was constantly awaiting approval from my male counterparts. I took to social media, a tool that I once used to fixate on others, to help me fall in love with myself. Once I started curating my social media feeds to be more inclusive and align with my new values, I understood the triviality of these external pressures. If others can be beautiful without looking like (or forcing themselves to look like) Barbie dolls, so can I. Becoming beautiful is an incredibly long journey and one that I am still embarking on. It requires constant effort and sometimes, I mess up. I still get jealous of other girls, anxious about my body, and uncomfortable in my skin. Especially as a

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first-year college student, I feel like I’m constantly performing, trying to put my best foot forward with no room for error. But, that’s part of the human experience and forward growth. Through all of these blips, I still love and forgive myself because my faults do not negate my beauty.

I am proud to say that 18-year-old me and eightyear-old me have a lot in common. We have the same tiny gap between our front teeth and acne scars on our cheeks. Most importantly, we have the same definition of beauty. Beauty is simple. It is smiling in the mirror even when my skin is breaking out. It is dancing in a bikini even when I’m bloated from eating. It is spending time alone with myself because I love and appreciate my own company.

Beauty can be anything I want it to be because, at the end of the day, nobody needs to find me beautiful but me.

I WANTED MY EIGHT-YEAROLD BRAIN BACK — THE ONE THAT LOVED EVERY INCH OF MYSELF UNAPOLOGETICALLY, EVEN IF NOBODY ELSE DID.

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mpo creative direction & photography SIMRAN GVALANI art direction KAELA ANDERSON contributing photo direction AUNG THANT KYAW & CALEM ROBERTSON design OLIVIANNE IRIARTE styling direction HILLARY NANA-ADJEI & QUIRIN EMANGA

Tempo

modeling SAMIR A-RAHIM & WOODY BRAZY & MAHEMA SINGH & KATHY VILLA & LIA FLANNERY styling AVERY PARKER & MAGGIE VON NORTWICK & NELL SWEENEY & SAMIR A-RAHIM & ABBY FALZONE & COCO LHERITIER & ELANA LANE & GRACE GILLEN makeup artists AZRA SCHORR & JESSICA BRITE

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FORM & FLUIDITY

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OUR BODIES ARE

A VESSEL

FOR

MOVEMENT

AND FEELING.

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one in a million

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Mundanity is merely one interaction away from a miracle.

I WAS FINDING THAT MIRACLES ARE MORE COMMON THAN I IMAGINED.

John Littlewood was a Cambridge University academic who dedicated his life to studying probability. Littlewood was drawn to the abstract likelihood of extraordinary events occurring in daily life. Hours of work led him to establish “Littlewood’s Law,” which would later be deemed “the Law of Miracles.”

The math behind miracles is more straightforward than one expects. The law is based on the assumption that everyday, you are actively paying attention for roughly eight hours a day while experiencing life at a rate of one event per second. Adding up the numbers, you should experience almost 30 thousand events per day, and over the course of merely one month, you should witness over one million.

Every month you should, statistically, experience a miracle — an event so extraordinary that it only occurs one in a million times.

After learning about the Law of Miracles, I found that miracles are more common than I imagined.

AUGUST 12 2021: I was walking down a lively road on an early weekend morning. I nervously glanced down at a seemingly endless list of tasks planned out for my day. With the overbearing weight of stress from the past week, simple responsibilities like dropping a package off at the post office felt like tremendously daunting tasks to me. But I performed the seemingly impossible job of getting myself out of bed, and left my apartment for a caffeine fueled trek across the city to complete my errands.

Strolling down the streets of Mission Hill, I walked up to the Brigham Circle T stop just as the train was pulling into the station. Stepping onto the surprisingly empty train car, I was pleasantly surprised at the timing of the train’s arrival. I was preparing for the Park Street transfer and slightly dreaded the crowds of people I had to navigate through to get to the red line platform.

As I was weaving and bobbing through the crowd, I overheard the muffled announcement that my train was now arriving, and again as I walked onto the platform, the train was meeting me simultaneously. With a slight smile under my mask, I marveled at my luck.

SEPTEMBER 21 2021: I was sipping on a spiced chai latte while attempting to finish my upcoming assignment. I finally decided to break out of my usual routine and tried

writing ALEXANDRA NIETO modeling ALEXANDRA NIETO photography AISHAZHAN ABU design KIMMY CURRY

out a new study spot on a whim. The sights around me were comforting yet unfamiliar. The ambient noises of the coffee shop around me flooded my ears: espresso machine dripping softly, the jingle of the bell announcing the arrival of the next customer, awkward conversations of the blind date at the table to my left.

My attention was brought to the entrance again when the bell on the front door rang. Entering the cafe was a familiar figure walking towards the cashier, and I felt the hairs on my arm jump in excitement. The voice ordering an iced americano allowed memories to flood through my mind. The two of us playing tag on the playground, bus rides to museum field trips, late night movies at slumber parties. As the familiar customer turned to face my table, I was greeted with an aged and friendly smile. The now grown woman who was standing only a few feet away from me was my childhood best friend who I hadn’t seen in years. We stood up at the sight of one another and embraced in a hug. Out of all the coffeeshops in the world, I ended up running into this special person.

OCTOBER 4 2021: My commute home after a long Monday was, expectantly, a hassle. MBTA delays, endless crowds of commuters, my feet blistering in

WHEN A MIRACLE DOES HAPPEN TO GRACE OUR PRESENCE, WE HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO APPRECIATE IT.

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pain from a long work day. After finally squeezing through an endless crowd of business casual attire, I finally sat myself down on a seat within the traincar. To pass time during my perpetual train ride home, I pulled out a book from my backpack in an attempt to lose myself in a fictional world. After flipping through a few pages, I lost focus as my attention was pulled towards the strangers around me. Looking around at my fellow T riders with a book in my lap, my eyebrows raised in disbelief. Sitting right across from me was an older woman holding in her hands an identical book cover to the one I was holding myself. Matching gold lettering on a black background on the front of the book in the hands of a complete stranger. We finally acknowledged each other: a soft smile and a nod was exchanged after the realization and nothing more. A few minutes later, the woman collected her belongings and got off the train at her stop. I still think about that day.

In reality, Littlewood did not find the mathematical solution to miracles. In fact, his work was done to make fun of the notion of miracles in everyday life. He was never truly interested in the wonder and marvel around us in the world. Littlewood’s studies were done to prove that these miraculous events are not phenomenal at all, but are merely coincidences. He believed that since so-called miracles are such a common monthly occurrence, and that there is nothing special in these odds-defying moments.

This is where Littlewood was wrong. Just because these moments happen every month does not make them any less special.

He failed to appreciate the beauty of the ordinary life around him. This lack of appreciation caused him to overlook the intricate delicacy of our reality. How one single decision could have been made differently

and consequently changed the outcome. How taking a different route to the T station would have caused a missed train. How picking a different coffee shop would have lost a meeting with a friend. How reading a different book would have caused a missed connection with a stranger.

The Law of Miracles does not guarantee miraculous events occurring every 30 days like clockwork.

Miracles are never to be expected. But when a miracle does happen to grace our presence, we have no choice but to appreciate it.

photography LAUREN LOONEY design CLAIRE HIGGINS models HALIMAT OLUNLADE & AVERY LEISS stylist MAGGIE VAN NORTWICK

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ISSU E. 14 THE AVENUE